Love Songs & Negotiations
by lizzie618
Summary: A Harry & Ginny fic, 1 year after the Battle of Hogwarts/Fall of Voldemort. Obviously, I do not own these characters, etc etc etc. :o


Harry apparated onto a grassy knoll a few hundred yards from The Burrow. He was expected for dinner in a little over an hour, but he wasn't yet quite ready to make his presence known to anyone but one. He reached into his back and found a quill and a scrap of parchment, scribbled on it and touched it with his wand. The paper folded into an elaborate butterfly and began to float off toward the house. Smiling to himself, Harry walked in the other direction.

Several hundred feet further was a small grove of beech trees. In the middle of which stood a tall, immensely old tree. If you knew where to look on its trunk, you could find several pair of carved initials: AW+MP, BW+FD, CW+JD, RW+HG, GW+HP. It was against this tree that Harry leaned, and waited.

Dinner at The Burrow tonight was to be celebratory: Ginny had finished her final year at Hogwarts, Harry had been accepted into the Auror Training Academy and Hermione had finished her first year at Oxford. She was leaving after dinner to spend a holiday with the Drs. Granger at their timeshare in Sydney. She was probably already here, but Harry could still be tolerably sure of being alone under the tree. Hermione and Ron tended to tryst in the garden.

After just a few moments of waiting, Ginny appeared. Even after a solid year of being together, he still marveled at her. Attired simply, as she usually was, in jeans and a t-shirt, and with her long hair pulled back in it's typical ponytail, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.  
Harry held out his hand to her. "Hail the graduate." he said, pulling her close. "Yeah, right," Ginny sighed. "The world's most redundant school year drawn to a close at last." Harry wrapped his arms around her and said "Ah, yes, but now, no more waiting until school holidays to see each other." He placed a hand under her chin and tiled her head back to look into her eyes. "Now we belong only to each other."

With that, he leaned his head down and kissed her. Ginny kissed back, her lips just as forceful as his. One of the millions of things Harry loved about Ginny was that she was just as sure of herself and her desires as he was. A truly equal partner.  
As the kiss went deeper, Harry slid his hands under the hem of her shirt and caressed the smooth skin of her back. "Mmmm. Mum says we've got less than an hour before dinner," Ginny whisper-moaned into Harry's ear as he began kissing her neck.

"Well, then, let's make excellent use of our time, shall we?"

Harry broke the embrace and stepped away from her, without another words, and sat down on the ground. "Harry! What are you--oop!" Ginny yelped and then giggled as Harry pulled her down into his lap. "There now," he said, "I've got you right where I want you. Where were we?" "Right about here." Ginny replied, covering his lips with her own.

Sitting, as she was, on his lap, Ginny could begin to feel the stirrings of his desire. It was a feeling that filled her with a sense of amazing power. Harry controlled his emotions to a fault, in most cases. It made him alluring and maddening. And it excited her that her touch could arouse in him such passion.

Harry began snaking his hands under the front of her shirt, over her belly. As always, the sensation of her skin under his fingers thrilled him. While Ginny's arms were still wrapped around him, he reached back and slid the band off her hair, allowing it to fall all around them.  
Ginny lay back on the soft grass, her hair spread around like a corona. Harry leaned over her and stroked her jawline, then ran his fingers through her hair. "Like fire," he muttered, "cool, silk fire."

Ginny looked up, met his eyes and sat up. She crossed her arms in front of herself and pulled her shirt off over her head, then lay back, pulling Harry down with her.

Harry was momentarily dazzled by the sight of her shirtless. Ginny's creamy torso was dusted with freckles and gently toned from hours on the Qudditch pitch. Her hips were graceful and feminine and Harry loved the glorious curvature of her high, luscious breasts, which were demurely hidden from view. The bra was garnet-colored, embroidered with gold flowers. Harry had to laugh at the color combination. Catching his eye, Ginny uncharacteristically blushed and said "What can I say? I'm Griffyndor to the core!" Then she pulled him to her and Harry suddenly had more important things on his mind than House colors.

As Ginny ran her hands under Harry's shirt she muttered "Fair's fair, Potter." and tugged his shirt over his head. Taking advantage of the change in position, she rolled them over until Harry was on his back against the cool grass and Ginny was straddling him. She ran her blunt fingernails along his abs and he shuddered. The effect she was having upon him was becoming manifestly evident. Harry was so hard it hurt, straining against the front of his jeans.

He gazed up at her, silhouetted by the setting sun and she looked down, grinning wickedly. She placed his hands on her hips and held them there, grinding herself into him, causing him to grown with both pleasure and pain.

"Ah, Ginny. Let's not start something we can't finish."

"We could finish it, Potter." She reached behind her back and an instant later her breasts fell free as she tossed her bra to the ground. She led his hands up to cup her breasts, pressing his palms against her hardening nipples.

"We've now officially gone further than ever before. Let's just go that extra mile, shall we?" She was already unbuckling his belt when he put his hand over hers, stopping her progress. "No. No Ginny. Not ... I mean ... I can't. No."

Her eyes hardened as she stood up, grabbed her bra and shirt and stalked behind the big beech tree. Harry took deep breaths and composed himself while her disembodied voice came out of the copse. "I don't understand you, Potter, I swear I don't. You ... I love you. I've told you that a million times. But you won't say it back even though you claim you do. And you don't want me to move in with you and you never talk about our future and you know what? I don't press you. I don't care. You've got your reasons, I'm sure." She came back from around the tree, redressed and with her hair up in a bun. "But I do care that you cant -- that you _wont_ make love to me!"

Harry looked at her, his heart aching, and sighed. He turned from her and began walking back toward The Burrow.

"No!" Ginny grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare _don't you dare_! Don't walk away from me right now! Stand here and _talk to me about this_!" "Ginny, let me--" "No, damn it Potter! Not again. Talk to me, please!" "I don't know what to, I mean how to explain. It's hard and ... it's hard." "Well you know what, Potter. That's a damned lame excuse. You'd better _figure this out_." She cupped his face and brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

"Look at you. The Boy Who Lived. Brave, tragic Harry Potter. What is it you see that scares you so much? I see it in your eyes. You're terrified. What are you seeing when you go so far away from me and how can I make it better? _Please, talk to me!"_

Harry swallowed. "I can't--"

"**DIIIIIIINEEEEEEER!!!!!**"

Molly Weasley's magically magnified voice boomed out, shattering the silence of the June evening.

"Come on, Ginny. Your mum'll kill us if we're late" Harry tried to turn his head away, but Ginny held it fast, still staring into his eyes. "This is not finished. We are not done," she said. But she took his had and held it firmly as they walked down to the house.

Dinner was merry and delicious. Spirits were high and Harry found himself pulled into the light-hearted banter. He hadn't seen Hermione since Easter holidays and enjoyed laughing along with everyone and she described the trails and travails of going to school amongst Muggles. "The 'internet'! It's _ridiculous!" _And about how nervous she was to get her exam marks back. "Latin was a nightmare. I'm sure I made at least one major mistranslation. Serves me right for placing into graduate-level. History was horrifying. I have to remember all the _Muggle_ versions of how and why things happened. They'll probably toss me out on my ear!" She moaned. Harry smiled along with everyone else. The day Hermione got anything less than an A on a paper would be historic, indeed.

Talking and jesting with his oldest, best friends and the only thing he'd ever known as a family, he dreaded the painful conversation he and Ginny were slated to have. _She'll break up with me._ He thought. _Because there's no way I can make her understand. _After dinner and pudding, Hermione bid everyone farewell. She was excited about the idea of 6 weeks in Australia. Ron left with her to walk down to the disapperation point, leaving Harry, Ginny, Molly and Arthur in the living room.

Arthur sat quietly reading his _Evening Prophet_, and Molly hummed to herself while darning socks. Ginny and Harry sat apart from each other on the sofa. Harry was on tenterhooks, horrified that Ginny might broach this awkward, personal subject in front of her parents. He wished Ron would hurry back and provide some kind of distraction. Twenty minutes after Ron left, Ginny shocked Harry by standing and, with a yawn and a stretch, saying "Goodnight, Mum and Dad. Tell Ron I said bye." She kissed her mother and father and then crossed back to Harry. "Goodnight, Potter". He kissed her, chastely. "Goodnight, Ginger." he said, puzzled but undeniably relieved.

Just when Harry figured that Ron had run off to Australia with Hermione, he came back. They both bid farewell to Arthur and Molly, taking the containers of left-over shepherds pie and blueberry crumble that Molly had pressed upon them.

"Blood hell." Ron began as they started back down the path to the disapperation point. "Same damned fight with Hermione tonight. It's getting really old."

Ron had proposed to Hermione the preceding September, on the night before Hermione left for Oxford. She had immediately agreed and then said it would have to wait until she had finished school. Lately, Ron had begun feeling that was too long. This argument had been had many, many times.

"Maybe, and here's a wild thought, you could stop asking her to change the date if you're tried fighting with her about that."

"Wow. Thanks for that amazing advice. What a new and original perspective you bloody plank."

"You're welcome, spotty git."

"The problem is, I don't want to wait another three effing years! And even then, knowing her, she'll decide she wants to go on and get a freaking Mastership--" "Masters" "--degree. And then it'll be another howevermany years. I want to marry her and be with her and move out of our place!"

"Oh, thanks so very much!" Harry said, feigning a great hurt, and punching Ron in the arm.

At this point both men stopped, disappeared and reappeared in Diagon Alley in front of the bookstore Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh, please," Ron continued, as though there had been no interruption, "You'll be thrilled to have the flat to yourself. Reckon Ginny'd be here in a split second."

"Yeah. Reckon."

"Surprised she's not moving in tonight, but I reckon Mum'd do her nut."

"Yeah. Probably." Harry muttered as they climbed the winding back stairs up to the little flat they shared.

"Alright, then, Harry? Y'seem a bit grim even for you." "Heh. No. A bit of a row with Ginny's all. But it'll be fine." "Tough night all around, eh?" Ron said, his hand upon the doorknob to his room. "Rows are alright. Especially if you have the right girl to make 'em up with!" With a bawdy chuckle, Ron went into his room. Harry walked down the hallway to the little efficiency kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge. It was a pleasing sight to see something in there other than pumpkin juice, butter beer, lager and cheese.

Keeping his thoughts deliberately away from rows and girls with whom to make them up, Harry showered and readied himself for bed. He did a quick couple dozen push-ups and thought about what to do the next day. No entrance exams to study for, no impossible tasks to complete, no humanity to save. _Maybe I'll buy an owl. I __**should**__ finally do tea with Dudley. Maybe I'll just see if Ginny wants to do something. If she'll speak to me._  
With those thoughts rolling around in his head, he stood up, pulled on an old pair of Chudley Cannons flannel pajama bottoms and stretched out full-length on the bed. Lying, shirtless, on his back reminded him of this afternoon's activities. He closed his eyes and imagined Ginny, straddling him. He could see her again, backlit but the afternoon light, bare-breasted and with that magnificent hair tumbling down her shoulders. He groaned slightly as the fantasy went deeper and he could practically feel her delicious weight on his groin. He was not at all surprised to find himself growing hard again.

He began to rub himself through the soft flannel. _Damn it, Harry_. He thought, _What's wrong with you? You love her and desire her. Man up and tell her so. And tell her what's wrong then let yourself have what you want and what she obviously wants to give!_

The urge to finish was become undeniable. He surrendered to it, sliding his pants down off his hips and taking a firm hold on himself. He visualized Ginny, mentally replacing his hand with hers and began in ernest.

So involved was he that he did not hear, at first, the tapping at his window. By the time he became aware of it, he was so blessedly close to one of the releases he so seldom allowed himself that he decided he didn't care. Whoever, whatever it was could wait. Just as he was nearing the point of no return, his breathing becoming rapid and shallow, a warmth spreading through his body, his window shattered. He instantly dove down on the bed and grabbed his wand from the floor as a pebble came sailing through the air and began insistently tapping on his head.

"What in _hell_?" He tucked himself in and and, wand still drawn, walked to the window.

Down on the cobblestone street stood Ginny, her eyes blazing up at him. Wearing an old, Zonko's t-shirt and a similar pair of pajama bottoms (hers patterned with the intertwining WS that was the Weird Sisters logo), she had a satchel over her shoulder. "Heya, Potter."

Utterly bemused, Harry walked down the stairs with no small amount of discomfort. When he opened the door, Ginny took one look at his condition and smirked. "Nice to see you, too." Brushing past him, she took his hand and led him up the stairs, while saying, "Before you even ask-- Yes, I apparated. No, I haven't got my license yet. No, I'm not crazy. Yes I realize the danger. Clearly I didn't splinch myself. No, Mum and Dad have no idea I'm here. I see no reason for them to ever find out. Are _you_ gonna tell them? Oh, stop shushing me! Ron could sleep through a hippogriff stampede. Now," they had reached the landing "which door is yours?" "This way." Harry said, leading her through the left-hand door.

"Wow, Potter. Nice place you got here."

It occurred to Harry that Ginny might be being sarcastic. His large bedroom was very neat, but rather spartan. A double mattress sat directly on the floor. It's linens made, but rumpled. Apart from that were a chair, a desk and a lamp. All his clothes were in the closet. The only affect of personal decoration evident was on one wall. It was covered with photographs. Dozens and dozens of wizarding photographs. Of Ginny; of Ron and Hermione; of Harry, Ron and Hermione in what looked like their 3rd year; Of Bill and Fleur on their wedding day; Several common-room candids of their fellow Griffyndors; The Quidditch team from Harry's 6th year; Hagrid and Fang; McGonnagal; Luna; Nevil; A shot taken before the first Tri-Wizard task of Harry, Fleur, Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory; George and Fred; Of Remus and Tonks; Baby Teddy Lupin; of Sirius; of Dumbledor; Of Lily and James ...

Without waiting for an invitation, Ginny shucked of her shoes and sat down cross-legged on the bed. Harry quickly put aside the thought "_Holy cow. Ginny's in my bed._" He did, however, sit down next to her and lean in to kiss her. She stopped him with one hand on his chest. "Nuh-uh. That's not what we're here for, kiddo. I told you we're not done talking and I am plenty pissed at you. Now I said we were gonna talk so -- ," She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and 2 glasses. "Let's talk." She poured them each a shot.  
Harry stared down into the glass, swirling the amber liquid. Wishing he could use it to bolster his courage. Wishing it would tell him what to do. He took a very small sip and felt it go down his throat. At the same moment he became aware of a small voice inside him that said, quietly, "Tell her. Trust her." Pushing that voice aside, Harry asked, casually, "So ... what is it you wanted to talk about."

"God damn it Potter. What the _hell_ do you think!" Ginny cried. She threw back her whiskey and shuddered, but continued. "I want to talk about what's wrong with you. What's wrong with _us_. I want to know why you won't say you love me and why you won't make love to me. I want to know what you're so bloody afraid of!"

Harry drank down the remainder of his shot. The voice grew slightly louder, slightly more forcefully repeating "Tell her. Trust her." "Ginny," he began, "You know how I feel about you. Why do I need to say it?"

"Because you won't and that's reason enough to want to know why."

"It's ... I just ... I can't. For your own good. Don't you understand?"

"No, Potter. Clearly I don't understand. And I love you but I swear I will leave you if you don't start making some effing sense."

Harry took another shot, partially to give himself something to do, partially for another second to think before answering, and partially to see if the voice would get louder, or he himself would get braver. The voice grew louder. "Tell her. Trust her." And at the same time Harry did feel a little bit of courage. Courage enough to state:

"There is no way you could understand."

"Do you _really_ think that?" Ginny took another drink and paused, as if listening to her own voice. "You stupid, selfish ass. Guess what? I've been here the whole time. Since you were eleven! I've watched everything you've gone through. Ever since I was 10 years old I've spent countless nights convinced I'd never see you again. Every time you jumped down a rabbit hole or flew off into the arms of danger. I've been here through everything and I've gone through more than you realize. I've fought right beside you. I've been hurt, nearly killed, and I've loved and I've lost too. I carry scars and nightmares and everything the hell else. You're so convinced youre carrying this burden alone. But you're not and you never have been."

Harry stood up and walked over to the wall of photographs. Ginny followed up and turned him around. "It's ok, Potter! Put your wand down, let the war be over. The only place it's still being fought is here." She touched his chest. "It's over."

Harry wrenched away from her. "It's not over!" he snapped. He grabbed the bottle from her and took a swallow. "It's not over! It will never _be _over! Do you know who I see, every time I think about how I feel about you? Every time I think about telling you? I see my parents! I see your brother and Lupin. I see Dumbledore. I see _Sirius_. They're gone! I loved them and they're dead. And It's all my fault."

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is! Everyone I love can be taken away and everyone I love can be used as a weapon!"

"By whom, Harry? Who would use me as a weapon?"

"Voldemort."

"Harry. Voldemort is gone."

With an effort that looked torturous, Harry spoke, wrenchingly, "No he's not! I see him _everywhere_. Don't you understand? I see him all the time. He's never going to be gone!"

Harry's voice broke in a sob and he fell to his knees in front of Ginny. He buried his face in her midsection as he sobbed as though his heart would break with the pain and fear and loss. She held him and let him cry, stroking his head soothingly.  
After a while his sobs quieted. He pulled himself away from her and say on the mattress again, his back against the wall.

"I'm not crazy, Ginny. I know Voldemort is dead, but I see him in every shadow. Behind every tree. Every noise is his return. I'm scared that I'll never be free of him."

"So. To recap," Ginny began, "every time you look at me you see the face of everyone you've loved and lost. Meanwhile, every 2 feet you think you see Tom Riddle?"

"Um. Yeah. That's pretty much it."

"Gee, Potter. That's pretty messed up."

They were silent for a moment and then cracked up. Harry pulled Ginny to him until she was nestled with her back against his chest. Harry took another swig from the bottle and passed it to Ginny, who took a swallow and then put it away.

"Harry, Voldemort stalked your every waking and dreaming moment for 7 years. He's gone, but he took a lot of people we love with him. And you had to kill him. Of course you have baggage. I expected you to. But here, i thought there was something so much worse because you wouldn't just tell me. You're so convinced you have to be enigmatic and brave. He won't always be with you. I promise. But as long as he is ... well, I'm willing to share you. For as long as it takes to shake him. As long as you don't start liking him better than me. And as for our beloved departed ... All they want is for you to be happy. For both of us. Do you think Sirius would disapprove of us being in love? It's not your fault Sirius died. He made his own choice and died fighting for something in which he believed. The same is true for your parents, and," she swallowed, "and Fred. And Dumbledore. And everyone. And making yourself believe it's your fault removes from them the glory they deserve. They died to fight Voldemort. And not _one_ of their deaths were in vain."

"You're right." Harry whispered into the top of her carrot-colored head.

They sat in a companionable silence for a while. Eventually, Harry began trailing his fingers up and down the outside of her arms, watching her goosebumps form. Ginny led his hands below the hem of her shirt, above the band of her pants. She shivered as his fingers played along her sing and she caught her breath as he began to untie the drawstring.

"Potter ...--"

"Ssshh, don't speak."

Sliding his hands under her pants and further down, he realized with a shock and a thrill that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Ginny could feel from her positions that he was beginning to get hard again. Harry felt within him the sap rise with all the urgency of delayed gratification. She turned around to face him and kissed him, at which point he pushed her backwards on to the bed. She sat up to take off her shirt and her bra and then lay back.

Harry positioned himself over her and kissed her. He bit her bottom lip and kissed along her jawline. He kissed the hollow of the ivory skin of her collar-bone. She ran her nails up and down his back feeling the sinew of his muscles moving just beneath the surface of his skin. Pulling his body away, he cupped his hands under her breasts and used his thumbs to stroke the tender points of her nipples.

"Please, please don't stop," Ginny breathed.

"I never will." Harry promised.

He leaned back in, lower, and took the nipple of her left breast into his mouth and applied a gentle, teasing suction. Ginny gasped and moaned, arching her back. She could feel the insistent strength of his arousal pressing against her. Harry transferred himself to her right breast and reapplied the tender ministrations, causing another moan.

Ginny reached down and began untying his drawstring. "Potter," she gasped, "You're not nearly naked enough."

"Neither are you, Ginger."

He reached down and yanked her pants fully off. Then he stopped, holding still. "What?" Ginny asked, nervously, "What's wrong?"

"You're just so beautiful. Your skin is flushed and your hair and ... I've just never seen anything in life as beautiful as you are." He sat still, his eyes gazing upon her spread out like a feast for all his senses. Simply looking at her breath-taking beauty quelled the urgency of his desires. But not of hers.

She raised her knees and spread her legs. "Potter, you'd better get back here and finish what you've started, or I'll do it for you."

Grinning, he met her eyes, "That sounds like fun for another time. Tonight i'm in no mood to share you with anyone. Not even yourself."

With that he began to kiss his way down her belly, to the sensitive area just above where her soft auburn hair began. Every inch of his decent caused Ginny to gasp with pleasure and anticipation. At long last he dipped his head and urged her open with his mouth. Ginny cried out "Oh, God!" and snarled her fingers in his untidy black hair. Her legs widened, allowing him further access. He tentatively, wonderingly, began to kiss her most private area. Ginny moaned and whimpered. Harry lifted his head.

"You taste like strawberries. And sunlight."

"Please. Please ..." she muttered.

"What? Tell me what you want."

"You."

Harry sat back and slid his pants off, his huge aching erection finally free. He positioned himself over her, his hardness pressing against the soft flesh of her thigh. He looked down into her eyes, silently asking a question. "I love you, Potter." Ginny said, by way of answering his eyes. "I love you, and I want you."

He leaned down to kiss her, allowing her to taste herself on his lips and then entered her with a swift thrust. She gasped and bit her lip against a sharp, swift pain. Harry groaned as he buried himself, suddenly feeling as though he'd found something he didn't know he'd been missing.

"Are you ok?" he asked her.

"Yes. It feels ... perfect."

Harry, guided by atavistic instinct, began thrusting his hips, withdrawing and then plunging into Ginny's wet, velvet vise. She raised her hips and met his every thrust.

The world was lost but for two people. Everything dissolved into an eddy of sweat and love and desire. Ginny heard noises, faintly, and it occurred to her that it must be the two of them making them, but for her existence came down to the man she loved and the sizzling connection between them. She loved him so deeply and in this instant he was finally giving himself to her. Finally, he was hers. This long sought-after man. She dug her nails into his back and held on tightly. Harry was moaning her name and she was crying his. Each second brought them closer to a new horizon. With a ragged, sobbing breath Ginny began to climax. She moaned and thrashed, and Harry, feeling her internal walls clench around him, drove himself in and cried out wordlessly, spending himself deep within her and collapsing on top of her.

They lay in a stunned heap. After regaining his breath and his grip on reality Harry said "That was ... wonderful. I think that was wonderful. I know I ... well, I enjoyed it. Thank you. Do I thank you? Bollocks. I don't know what to say! Ginny ... was that ok?"

Ginny gave a low laugh. "Well, I don't really have a basis for comparison, but I think it was very, very ok."

He turned to face her and propped himself up on his elbow. He stroked some of the silken strands of hair on her shoulder. She curled into his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. It was a protective posture, but in that moment, Harry feared nothing. The spectre of death was gone. Even his ghosts seemed to have taken a hiatus. They'd be back, he knew. But somehow he didn't care as much. He knew everything was right with the world.

"I love you, Ginger." He said, "I love you,"

Smiling to herself, Ginny snuggled deeper into his chest. "I know.", she replied.

Silence came then.

And, eventually, sleep.


End file.
